The Eleven O' Clock Terror of Namimori
by Danniya
Summary: It was a horrible thing, really, and it had descended upon the wholesome town of Namimori like the black plague.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**Warnings: **Utter silliness, and OOCness.

* * *

At eleven thirty in the middle of the night, Lambo turned and messily kicked his legs in his sleep, arms wrapped tightly around a suffocating pillow, and mouth slugging out saliva and the few incoherent words Tsuna can hear, though he thought it was about chocolate and stomping on Reborn's face. Ipin was sleeping as peacefully and strictly straight as possible, and Nana was lying down between them, undeterred by Lambo's movements.

Wind would sometimes knock at their window, but it was a soft and dull knocking, and couldn't have woken up the future tenth boss of Vongola.

"So, it's not from this room." Sawada Tsunayoshi sighed, rubbing an eye before turning his bare heel to go search the other room. He had been woken up by the sounds of feet running, crying, the rodeo of horse feet, and gun shots.

Needless to say, it had made his subconscious knock him out his bed and realise that Reborn was missing from his usual spot. That plus the sudden onset of sounds lead him to believe that Reborn was trying to maim some poor guy, who might've accidentally went around his turf, with horses.

"Reborn!" He shouted as quietly as he could at his kitchen. It was utterly quiet.

Defeated, he closed the door and went for the living room, hoping with all his might that he won't find bloodstains and exploded pieces of bullets and brain in the morning.

_'Maria! Do not leave!'_

_'John, your parents do not want me, I must!'_

_'But Maria!'_

_'Oh John!' _

Tsuna stopped immediately in the middle of the hall, two feet away from getting into the living room. He rubbed his eyes even harder now, pinching himself a bit for extra measure.

_'I told you to get that wench out our house!'_

_'Mother, I love her! You can't stop that!' _

_'Do not talk to your mother like that, John!'_

_'Then I'll leave this house! I'll go and live with Maria!'_

_'That cow girl is no good or use to you, John! Stay, and marry Beth!'_

Tsuna's frown deepened to around the proximity of his chin and cheeks.

Who the hell would watch this soap?

Maybe it was his mom, who went to the living room when he was inside the kitchen.

Or maybe it was a nut job, who got into his house for the cable, and decided to watch it for god-knows-why.

Either way, it has to stop. 'Cause it was annoying. And Beth sounded like such a bitch. So, as a sure fourteen year old boy would, Tsuna strode to the living room, ready to tell that nut job off.

"Hey, wha—"

He bit his tongue.

Two pairs of black eyes stared at him that night. They were watery, and the nose was red.

Tsuna couldn't get the words out his mouth.

He managed to scream out one though, just after feeling his gut stuck up, his brain go haywire, and his breath hike at the sudden sight.

"_Reborn?!_"

...

A gunshot and ten pieces of wood breaking were heard that night.

That woeful night.

* * *

"Don't exert yourself too much, next time, okay Tsu-kun?" Nana told her son happily, the next morning, as she gets ready to leave.

It was a fine gesture, especially since it shows that she cares, with a peck on his forehead.

What wasn't quite fine, or right for that matter, was the fact that Tsuna was wrapped all over from head to toe in gauge and ointment, only to cover his excessive bruising from what Reborn told Nana as 'Bruises from midnight math training, because your son wants to make you happy with his future grades.'

Tsuna groaned in response, his bleeding brain can't quite remember all the events that happened last night. It had something to do with a guy named John and some bitch named Beth, though.

"Your father and I will come by later for lunch, Tsu-kun, rest for now, alright?" Nana chirped before closing Tsuna's hospital room's door, leaving her son in the dark about John and Beth.

* * *

"_What_ happened to my son?" Sawada Iemitsu asked for the second time, still looking confused. The CEDEF leader, upon getting the information that his son practically died last night in eastern time, went out of his way to jump into a private jet and make it to Japan as fast as Lambo can cry.

"I had no other choice, Iemitsu." Reborn assessed professionally, as if beating up a minor to the extent of internal bleeding in his brain's frontal temporal lobe is a perfectly normal effect in training. Which it is, in his opinion, which is also correct.

"Is he going to be fine?"

"I hired the best gun men to blackmail the doctors and kill them if he isn't."

"Well, I suppose..." Iemitsu rubbed a calloused thumb in his temple, sighing from the jet lag and from his current situation as a father and mafia member.

"You had no other choice."

Reborn tipped his hat and walked away with as much mystery as a toddler in a suit can.

"REBORN, I'M GONNA DEFEAT YOU! GYAHAHAHAHA—KUPYA!" spluttered Lambo when Reborn kneed his chubby face to the tiled ground for disturbing the infant's walk-off.

* * *

Eleven-thirty struck once more in the Sawada residence, and as usual, Lambo kicked in his sleep, Tsuna was beaten up and lying down in the hospital and Reborn was crying to a soap drama.

Iemitsu was with him though.

And together, as they watched Beth cry out that she's pregnant at John's second cousin, they bawled and sniffed on Kleenex tissues, but only in a subtle manner, as men should.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Iemitsu." Reborn whispered, huddled in front of the television with a pillow and his chameleon on his side. "That is surely John's baby."

"No it's not, Reborn. Anna gets John's baby!"

"Honey?"

Iemitsu and Reborn stood up straight at Nana Sawada's voice, and ever so urgently and crudely did they rotate their heads to look at her. Both their stomachs pummelled at the thought of erasing Iemitsu's wife's memories, if only to preserve their _rightful_ dignity. No one, _no_ one must find out that they watch this drama for their manly amusement, _no one_. The few days of misery and humiliation they had to face from their co-workers' disdained looks was enough of an announcement.

"Iemitsu—"

"I know, Reborn." Sadly, and filled with guilt and the sniffles, Iemitsu reached under his pillow.

"I didn't know you watch _Lover's Ending Happiness_ too!" Nana squealed unexpectedly, hands wrapped around her to express her utter joy to know that her husband watches it as well. As quickly as possible, Nana brought herself to Iemitsu's side, to continue and finish the night watching _Lover's Ending Happiness_ in happiness.

**Chapter 1 END**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**A/N:** I forgot to say stuff. I'm sorry to all those that are named John, Anna, Maria, and **Beth **(Oh God, I'm so sorry). And I don't own Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Yes, I know. I should cry. orz. Oh, and the title fails.

**Warnings:** Made-in-five-minutes-Ocs, and crapiness, definitely crapiness.

* * *

Vongola Nono was either getting forgetful or was getting secretive, Vongola Head Secretary Jose Vasquez mused to himself as Nono frets about the papers he swore he left on his own desk.

"It's fine boss, don't worry about it."

"If you're sure, then I guess there is no reason to worry myself," Nono hastily wiped his wrinkled forehead.

"So, about the meeting later with the Assassin Squad of the new British Mafia group, I suggest you—"

"That was today?" Nono exclaims, eyes wide. "I can't. I've forgotten about it," He said in grief, as more wrinkles striped his aging skin.

"Is that so? It's really alright boss. I'll just brief you."

"But I can't go, Jose!"

"Why not Boss?"

"I made another meeting. I have other plans. I might've planned a dinner with my son!"

"... I see. Alright then. I'll reschedule it to tomorrow. Please get some rest after your dinner, you sound fidgety."

"Yes, yes, thank you."

Jose Vasquez was an honourable man, known for never forgetting. He had a sharp memory, and he was immensely intelligent.

So, as he closed the double cherry wood doors of the Vongola ninth's office, he told his prodigy, "Lad, I think our boss is up to something."

"Sir?" Young Larry Smith cocked his head to the side, clip board on his left hand.

"Have you noticed how... different the boss has been?"

"Not at all sir."

"Then I'd have to demote you anytime now." Jose said pointedly, tsking at his young prodigy. "He's been anxious all over for the last two months."

"I'm sure it's just because he's tired sir, you tend you exaggerate sometimes."

Jose frowned, beginning to establish his stride in the marble halls of the Vongola mansion. "Now isn't the time to criticize my being obsessive. He spills his coffee, he forgets meetings, he misplaces important papers, and now he talks about dinner with Lord Xanxus! Something isn't right."

"I see, sir," Larry blurted as he rushed to follow his teacher. "I think."

"Get the Coup D'état group ready lad, and the head strategist, _without _the knowledge of the guardians."

To this, Larry's darks eyes went wide, thin eyebrows shooting to the fringe of his bangs. He stopped on his tracks. "Sir, are we going to overthrow the—" Jose quickly clamped his hand on Larry's mouth.

"My life is on the boss, as is yours. I'm sure that he isn't doing _anything_ disrespectful to the Vongola Family. _But,_" Jose whispered, his own brown eyes unwavering of his newfound mission, "what _if _he is? We aren't going to overthrow him, of course not. We're going to investigate him, out of respect for the rest of us."

"But you're doubting him!"

Jose twitched.

"Of course I'm doubting him boy!" The head secretary shouted. "As far as I know, he might have Alzheimer's without us knowing! As the Head Secretary of Vongola, I need to find out what's wrong with him! He's always gone at six to seven at night!" The head secretary practically boomed now, his tanned face turning red and somewhat blue at the lack of oxygen. "What if-if,"

"Well, maybe there isn't anything wrong with him! Maybe he's trying to change his relationship with Lord Xanxus, but he's so nervous he gets fidgety." Larry reasoned, patting his jean's pockets for the pills his teacher now needs.

Jose's eyes grew dark. He was an honourable man, and he, along with the rest of Vongola can say that without him, this family wouldn't be as operative and organized. In order to be kept being called that certain honourable man; he has to make things operative and organized, by being obsessive.

And obsessive he was.

"Any plan, whether it is a swimming pool party, play date or _dinner date_, goes through me. I need to know the details a day before it happens. The boss knows that." He said, sounding hurt and mental at the same time. "He's hiding something, lad."

Larry thought that if the Boss forgot about that too, then maybe there is something wrong with him or maybe he is hiding something, to which the young prodigy is actually curious about.

Larry also thinks that his teacher needs his pills, and loyally hands the correct number to the palm of Jose's hands.

"Alright, alright," he gave in, "but we aren't getting any kind of group, you just want to order people around, sir."

Jose stared at him weirdly for a second, before gulping down his pills, and returning to the man that shows no characteristically deep emotions like he was a ten minutes ago with Vongola Nono.

Ah, pills.

* * *

Jose Vasquez checked his watch. It was exactly six pm, and the fidgety Nono stood up from his velvet seat, an expression on his face that Jose couldn't quite comprehend. His boss's eyebrows were knitted together, his frown was deep, and his eyes showed that he was wary, very wary. And he moved with the precision of his body as if he was 50 years younger.

Larry thanked God that his teacher allowed them to investigate the boss in the camera room. "The boss is acting really weird, sir," Larry said through his cup of milk tea.

Jose nodded, and continued to monitor Nono like a hawk; his hands were clenched tight into balls of fists as he observed, looking for anything even more abnormal. The old man had been normal the first few thirty minutes, but now, Nono himself looked like the predator with wings. He had swiftly grabbed his papers, shoved them out of his drawers, and what's weirder, he crawled beneath the desk, until the soles of his leather shoes were the only things that Jose and Larry could see, unfortunately.

A minute later, after Jose prompted to call the Medical team and got stopped by Larry, Nono crawled back out, now holding a little black remote and a set of keys, then he deftly pressed a button on his desk and the monitors in the camera room went blank.

* * *

"Sir, he's going to see us!"

"You should've worried about that when you stopped me from getting the Investigation Team," Jose dismissed, as he and his young prodigy continued to crawl on all fours inside the vents that snaked the roof of the ninth's office. "Then maybe, they would've been the one expertly crawling and not making noise because their knees are so knobby."

"Sorry!" Larry apologized, looking through the airway that gave him little space to observe the office. "Oh look, sir! He's throwing out his books!"

Jose pushed Larry away, and began to observe the scene himself. It wasn't far off to say that he was awestruck.

The boss moved with the agility of the cat and the strength of a tiger, and if Jose wasn't as obsessive as he was, he wouldn't have seen Nono open the bookcase with the set of keys, revealing an entranceway, to which he walked inside to the awaiting darkness.

Then, he walked back out.

Frown.

"Jose, Larry, get out." He ordered, and in the following milliseconds, Jose was standing in front of him, patting down his coat and pants from the fall he took from the ceiling to the ground.

Larry was still hurting in his back 'cause he fell on the chair.

"What is this?" Nono inquired, looking very strategic and professional, and perfectly scary.

"Sorry boss, we were worried."

"Why?"

"Boss..." Jose sighed, "Lord Xanxus doesn't... _like_ you."

Nono twitched, and Larry swore (through the back pain he felt) that the ninth even blushed a bit in embarrassment. "I know," he said indisputably. "So, what are _you_ doing?"

"Boss?"

Nono merely stared, and Larry began to fret over his bruising back.

"I'm sorry, boss. I thought you were doing something to betray the Vongola—"

"Unheard of. You wouldn't think of such a thing."

"I wouldn't?"

"I don't think you can either, sir."

"Larry!"

"But really sir, you're too loyal to the ninth."

"So tell me, Jose, what do you think I was doing?"

It was at that moment that the remnants of the pills wore off, and Jose began to feel anxiety and humiliation, quite similar to when he was in gym once in elementary, and his coach lectured him with no end just cause he tripped and got hit with a dozen of balls. From dodge-ball session.

"W-Well, you were acting really suspicious, and weird, and really, really weird, so maybe I thought you were hiding something which would be," Jose trailed off. His chiselled features softened, and his cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of vermillion.

"I don't even know anymore! Maybe you were watching porn,_ live_ porn! I don't know!"

Larry fell on the flat of his face in shock, then he immediately tried to straighten up because a splinter got into his eye. Nono blinked.

"Well it's true that I can't even bring it to heart that you're betraying us! So maybe that is what—"

The ninth shook his head and swung an arm around his Head Secretary, leading him to the secret cavern through the bookcase. "Dear boy, what I watch is better than that," he announced, and the bookcase closed behind them.

Larry was still in pain on top of the chair; his legs were sprawled in a very difficult manner. "Sir?" he called when he can't hear anyone talking about mature stuff anymore.

"Boss? Sir? Heellloooo? I don't think my leg is supposed to bend like this."

* * *

The darkness the cavern showed was short, but realistic, and frightening. Jose couldn't hear his footsteps, nor could he hear Nono's, but he heard himself gasp when a blinding light flashed, momentarily clearing his eyesight. Nono remained silent.

There was a sofa there, bathing itself in the light that made Jose gape. The Head Secretary couldn't think very clearly, but he sat on the sofa, and stared at the light as if it was holy.

Its remarkableness made it holy, and that was his belief, and so he stayed, and continued to stay along with Nono.

_'Who do you think you're kidding?!'_

_'I'm sorry, but this is reality.' _

_'No! No! Anna, do something!' _

_'I'm sorry Beth, but Maria has amnesia, and she has bone cancer. She's going to die, without even remembering you, which is good, since apparently you can't commit to your relationships!'_

_'But Anna!'_

The ninth watched his subordinate clamp two hands on his mouth, watching at the big screen monitor intently. Much like a father, he sat beside Jose and offered him tissues when Beth began to bawl about the sudden future of her secret lesbian partner, Maria, to Doctor Anna.

"Boss—"Jose hiccuped, forcing his manly voice to speak though the tears God gave him.

"Yes?"

"D-Do you have season one?"

Nono nodded, pointing at the stack of DVDs and tapes beside the big screen monitor that showed the two men utter heaven.

"Boss?"

"Yes?"

"Beth is such a bitch."

"I know," Nono gently patted him on the back as they continued to watch and Jose continued to sob as manly as he could, "I know."

* * *

One warm summer's day, the big clock in front of the Vongola Mansion struck twelve, and a group of young Mafiosi gathered outside at the lush rose garden. They brought sandwiches, and drinks, and more sandwiches. It was lunch time, the time for a break from all that mafia crap like polishing bullets. The young group had been around for about three months, and it had been evident that they were all friends. And though they were all men, the other more experienced senior Mafiosi thought of them as gossiping bastards.

"Don't you think the boss and the head secretary are acting weird for the past couple of weeks?" Young guy number one started as he began to unwrap his rye sandwich.

"You think so too? I think they're hiding something. "

"Sir Larry won't tell us anything, and he always says something like they found heaven together, what's up with that?"

"Maybe they're watching porn."

"Oh."

"They watch it _together_?"

"SIR, JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED, SIR!" Larry screamed at the background as he chased a very red Head Secretary. "SIR PLEASE, WHO IS THE BABY'S FATHER?!"

"Baby?"

"...Well, I don't think they _watch, _if you know what I mean."

"Oh."

Young guy number eight blinked rapidly, as he assessed what the others had just said.

"The ninth is gay?"

Young guy number seven wagged a finger, "and apparently a dad of a biological son again, can't forget that."

**Chapter 2 END**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Real sorry for the stupidly late update. I had my exams in school, and then every kind of school work just poured. I suppose I'll be posting as frequently as I could when Christmas Holidays are finally here. And when I'm not lazy.

**Warnings: **Same old, same old but with more octopus curses.

* * *

Tap.

A hesitant tap.

An even more hesitant tap.

Backspace the whole thing.

"Son of a bitch," Gokudera Hayato mumbled under his breath, hand perching his head as he stared (glowered terrifyingly) at his small laptop. From his current state, it was quite evident that he had been doing, and repeating this whole process for some time now. His eyes were twitching and sore, and they had the darkest bags ever below them; his forehead was wrinkled from thinking, and beside his laptop laid packages of junk food, cans of soda, and an almost empty packet of cigarettes.

His room smelt of nicotine, and the manly scent of sweat, at this early hour in the morning.

Well, as manly a smell of sweat could get from furiously trying to type up three more paragraphs for the most awesome motherfucking fanfiction ever! Since that was what Hayato was doing, or tried to do.

For the past month, once he managed to slave and get the laptop, he had been preoccupying his time by earning easy money from ads, hacking and humiliating any dumbass's site, and weirdly enough, he even made his own blog, forum and advice column, where he talked with other netizens and bashed them for being stupid.

He was bored. And doing such activities had satisfied him for at least two to three weeks, tops. After that small time frame, Hayato had felt empty, lazy, and ultimately unadventurous whenever he is confined to his apartment. The days went slow, and though he absolutely loathed it, Hayato couldn't be with Tsuna each and every minute of the day, which meant more empty time with himself. Oh the joy. So, one weekend day, the smoking-bomb-guy lazily lounged in his sofa, eating a very hot cup of instant noodles. He listened to the news on the television, amidst the raging noise the storm outside bellowed. He couldn't care less anyway. He sighed, placed the remains of his food on his table, and deftly changed channels, for the heck of it.

It was then, that his green lazy eyes felt misty, and his soul felt _renewed_. He was entranced, and so he continued to be entranced and to scrutinize and properly observe it, because he felt well then.

_'You... You! The one in red! Aren't you Maria Leslova?'_

_'Why, yes, I'm Maria Leslova, and who are you—John?!'_

_'Oh Maria! I've waited for so long!'_

_'John!' _

_'Maria!' _

The teenager had watched Lover's Ending Happiness's fifth episode, wherein John Collins somehow found Maria Leslova sitting somewhere in the airport he just arrived in. It was magic.

And he undeniably loved it.

To this day, he still does, maybe even more, though he might never will admit it, except to the netizens that somehow thought that they could give negative opinions of it on the internet. Christ, Hayato spent day and night flaming them, before hacking them and making them subscribe to slash furry porn. That has those weird viruses that makes gay porn show up the moment one's laptop is booted. Then, he admittedly ran up to their house, and left sparkling sacks of TNT at their front doors and a fire-proof note that says: You're lucky you aren't home, 'cause that shit was supposed to go up your ass, shit-face!' Then he took pictures of the destroyed rubble called houses which won't be covered with insurance, and walked the hell away, snickering to himself the whole time. His scary regimen had made netizens shut up for the mean time, and he liked it like that; that way, he could download all the seasons, subscribe to Lover's Ending Happiness's sites, and log in to forums—in fucking peace.

Now, Beth was pregnant, Maria was dying, Dr. Ana was having an affair with John's dad, and Gokudera Hayato realized: won't it be awesome if this crap happened instead of that? Thus, Hay Gogh, renowned fanfiction author, was born. He had written about long different eight stories by now, and people seemed to love him and his work.  
Again, he couldn't care less. He didn't care if they look down on him and his work, because he loved his work—why, he only posted them online in hopes that the director of the soap would see and slap himself for not thinking what Hayato thought. His work was poetically manifested in HTML, and it just absolutely shows how much Hayato put himself into it. In his own words, his own soul was recombined with his favourite soap opera of all time.

He did care when they look down at his favourite soap opera of all time, though. _This is stupid. Lover's Ending Paradise is the most nonsensical, overrated piece of shit ever made in North America. Why do so many people like it? The dialogue is a bunch of shit, the characters are a bunch of shit, and everything else about it just screams shit!_ – Blogger JJGA8059 had commented.

Hayato snickered as he remembered that poor loon, and the mysterious news cast about a bloody apartment down in the suburbs. But again, he couldn't be bothered by that stupid idiot now. Gokudera Hayato had only one thing to care about, and that was Lover's Ending Happiness: The Fan Masquerade. '_Those who submit their best projects about Lover's Ending Happiness will get a chance to come to L.A.'s most prestigious restaurant and dine with our favourite characters of all time! That's right! John's dad and Beth's baby! Hahaha, how silly of me. Of course Beth's baby can't be there, little one hasn't even been born yet. John's dad is awesome and alive though, so he gets to be there!' _The annoying voice of the talk show host annoyingly echoed in Hayato's mind.

He knew he had to win. John's dad was _his_ idol. The man had been featured in almost all of his stories either as a princely character or a super hero that saved all of humanity and its octopi.

Tap.

Double tap.

_I'm-really-getting-into-this_ tap.

Backspace it all.

"Tch!"

Hay Gogh was stumped in the making of the most awesome motherfucking fanfiction story ever.

* * *

10: 00 AM blinked by his electronic alarm clock, and Hayato's eyes couldn't be more weary.

He felt defeated, like a poor, hapless little thing. He reached out, pressed a button on his laptop, and the document that held his many hours of hard work disappeared.

He needed helped, and so, he laid out a plan on the piece of paper he innocently found on the floor.

1. Close the story for now, you need rest.

2. Calculate your options for plots, and plans on how to kill the editors if they don't approve of your masterpiece.

3. Smoke.

4. Eat. Pee.

5. Feel awesome and write some more.

6. Search the internet on how to properly make yourself awesome to write this motherfucking shit because you don't have time left and you need to meet up with the tenth because he'd be really disappointed if you, the right hand man, won't be by his side for at least six hours a day.

Hayato blinked on the last one. "Was I possessed?" He mumbled as he couldn't quite comprehend the complexity and weirdness of the last number. Did he really write that down?

"I was possessed? So I'm cursed. I'm cursed. Oh God, I'm _fucking_ cursed." His blood ran cold as he ran for a pencil and hastily wrote the next number on his to-do list.

7. Drink holy water. Go to the shrine. Or church. Get a fucking priest and make him clean the whole apartment in holy water. Leave and never come back.

Satisfied with his list, Hayato immediately set out to the first number. Rest.

**10:05 AM **

Hayato had mysteriously gotten his sofa sold in less than five minutes to a hippie dude that smelled of manure and flowers, while he was trying to rest.

Blinking, he grabbed the list and promptly began to calculate.

**10:15 AM **

The teenager smirked widely as he read the notebook he filled with his reckoning and computations (for his L.A. Editor murder spree). It involved airplanes, baseball-nut dying, guns, and dynamite. Good old dynamite. Oh, and it involved John's dad spending a night in Japan.

He felt very happy now, and so he threw the notebook at some drawer in his desk, and began to optimistically do the next number.

**10:21 AM **

He choked in smoke.

**10:26 AM **

It took him five minutes to cough enough, drink water, and read the next step.

**10:35 AM **

Hayato ambled out of his modest restroom, oddly feeling satisfied. He had peed a ton. What man wouldn't feel satisfied at that? Especially since he ate quite a lot, and almost died a couple of minutes ago.

His calm eyes soon saw his desk table, littered with cartons of food and packets of smokes.

Then, he saw a cockroach, _guiltlessly_ crawling all over his papers and laptop.

"Holy fuck."

**10:38 AM**

Hayato blew an errant hair out of his face as he examined his burning desk, the empty bottle of disinfecting alcohol in his hand, and the thrashed papers and electronic gadgets (that just happened to smell like ethanol) on his bed.

Well, at least the cockroach's dead.

He surmised that he could live without a desk for a while.

**10:45 AM**

Hayato couldn't feel more irritated as he stared at the bewildering blank space on his laptop. His story is short half a plot.

Grumbling, he grabbed the burnt paper that held his list, read the sixth number, and began to search.

**10:46 AM **

Ecafkcid, one of the most known advice bloggers in the internet, had miraculously made a post on getting rid of stumps so that you could write!

Grateful, Hayato quickly clicked the link, and read. It was surprisingly short, concise, but helpful. It only had one paragraph.

** Stress **

_In writing stories, stress is one of your main enemies. Having stress would mean you have too much to think about. Too much to think would mean stumps. So get rid of that accumulating stress, be it sexual frustration or honest stress about Lover's Ending Happines: Fan Masquerade! But hey, I guess we all know that you won't be having the former kind of stress! Hah! What kind of a nutjob would you be to be even in this part of the internet? Sexual frustration. Yeah. That makes me laugh. Who the hell even makes fanfiction nowadays and be so totally serious about it to search about this? God. You must have no life __**at all**__. Anyway, think "refresh" and do "refreshing" stuff, and that stress about getting molested by your imagination will be gone in a jiffy! Happy writings!_

Hayato, bewildered, glared and seethed at the blogger's meaningful advice. "Dickface," he said through gritted teeth, and angrily closed the site. Mister Ecafkcid would find a present wrapped in red for him soon. Very. Soon. Just 'cause that irritated Hayato for some reason.

But nevertheless, mister Ecafkcid does have meaningful advice, and stress does seem like the cause of his stump.

Gokudera Hayato sighed, rubbed his temples, felt like he just did a marathon and still failed to destroy Yamamoto's guts (in short: He felt terrible), and laid back on his chair.

Refresh.

Refreshing.

"Water is refreshing," he mumbled, and promptly ran to his shower.

**11:00 AM **

Gokudera Hayato sneezed and slightly shivered.

Forgetting about the fact that you don't have hot water, and the fact that running right into the evilly cold shower wasn't a good idea, was a really terrible idea.

But the teenager was young and strong, and so he didn't took notice about it at first. He had sat through the agonizing 14 minutes of cold-as-hell waterfalls, just to feel refreshed. He even used some of Bianchi's lavender soap. He came out of the shower feeling sick, and smelling sickly sweet. Ugh.

"What else is refreshing?" He muttered to himself as he put on a fresh shirt and jeans. All that came to his mind was cold. Cold drinks, cold food, cold places, and the like. Hayato grumbled, thinking that he has nothing else to do anyway, and grabbed his wallet and walked leisurely out of his apartment.

Shaved ice it is.

**11:10 AM **

At the park, on the pavement etched with pink and blue melting ice and syrup, Hayato stood, fists shaking in wrought anger.

Beside him stood a very oblivious Yamamoto and an unwanted woman he recognizes as Haru Miura.

"Gokudera?"

"YOU FUCKTARD!" Gokudera grabbed him by the collar, and glared so much that he wished, prayed, hoped with all his might that Yamamoto Takeshi would just burn under his gaze. "The hell was that about?!"

"You mean the shaved ice?" Yamamoto blinked, earning a ten times more of a scathing glare. "Well you looked really out of it, so I tried to nudge you, but then you jumped and your shaved ice went to the floor."

Gokudera twitched. "I KNOW THAT!"

"Hahi! Stop shouting at Yamamoto-san!" Haru, in turn, shouted at him, stomping her booted foot on the melted ice to express her sincere anger. "Why were you even eating shaved ice anyway?"

"Because I'm stumped you stupid woman!"

"Haru is not a stupid woman!"

"Not in my book!" Gokudera spluttered. "Why are you even here?"

Takeshi blinked. "Stumped in what, Gokudera?" Hayato failed to response. He was much too shocked at what Haru screamed, "Haru's here with Yamamoto-san doing her movie for Lover's Ending Happiness!"

Again, Hayato blinked. Then he laughed. Madly. Slapped his knee and bent to his stomach even.

"What's so funny?!" Haru screeched indignantly.

"Like hell you'll ever win the masquerade! So just give it up!"

"Eh Gokudera, you know about the masquerade so you must like Lover's Ending Happiness too, right?" Yamamoto asked. "Did you think of anything to do yet? Because Haru and I are stumped too. Haha!"

"Of course I know what to do! I'm making a fanfiction so great that John's dad would beg me to kill their script writer!"

Yamamoto nodded understandingly, patting him on the back as he propelled both Gokudera and Haru away from the crowd that started to form around them over the past few moments. "Great, great! You can be our director."

"Why the fuck would I do that?!"

"Haru doesn't want him! He'd just put parts about destroying children's lives and female abuse!"

"I would not—Hey, that's actually a great idea."

"NO IT'S NOT!"

But Hayato did not listen. His ingenious mind soon towered over him, and he laughed silently. Oh yes, he—Hayato Gokudera, Hay Gogh—can see it now! Cow's flying, baseball-nut's nuts crying, dog's eating turkey and China ruling the world!

He laughed silently to himself. He hadn't felt so inspired in weeks. Such inspiration affected him greatly. He walked hunched, laughed darkly and quietly, and he rubbed his hands together like an evil mad doctor.

"Y-Yamamoto-san," Haru murmured as she desperately clutched on to Yamamoto's side.

"Yeah?" Takeshi replied reluctantly, as he and Haru watched Hayato warily—from a distance of five feet.

"Haru read somewhere that there's this disease that angry people contract immediately at sudden times," she strained to whisper at his ear. "It ruins the victim's spinal chord—" They both stared at the hunched Gokudera, "—it makes the voice horse—" Gokudera still laughed darkly, softly, and maybe even raspy. Haru gulped. "—And it ruins their brains!"

Takeshi and Haru stared at Gokudera. Haru was almost at tears. The disease was said to be a fast killer. Then, the two stared at each other. Then at Gokudera. Then at each other.

Then they ran to the mad doctor/fanfiction-man, grabbed him by the feet and dragged him to where the sun don't shine—Dr. Shamal's clinic.

Hayato knows because they keep on screaming the stupid perverted doctor's name and because he himself kept on shouting the worst imaginable cusses at them and a lady fainted.

**Chapter 3 END**

* * *

**A/N:** About Gokudera having an advise column, that's from the really funny fanfiction called Dear 59 kun by fan-nerd! If you don't mind BL, then I suggest you read it, it's really good and it did made me laugh quite a lot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Warnings: **Mentally challenged and stupid stuff.

* * *

It was early in the afternoon, when crown prince Belphegor strutted into the tiled kitchen of the Varia Manor, frowning. He opened the nearest cupboard. Empty. He opened the next cupboard; he even grabbed a stool to see inside the darkness better. Nothing but pots and pans. Annoyed, he grumbled along with his stomach and got to the fridge. He continued to frown, as he only saw a box of expired cheese, a jar of yucky sour plums, and a nut cake. He was allergic to nuts. The youth almost had the resolve to destroy the fridge and the whole kitchen and its staff with it, seeing as that he was experiencing one of the most cliché situations a hungry man has ever experienced.

Just when he did decide to do so, a silly smile replaced his frown as he saw a plastic container with a sandwich inside.

"Shishi~!" He laughed to himself, taking the container into his welcoming hands. He looked inside the two slices of bread. Lettuce, cheese, tomatoes, and mayonnaise. Typical. He sniffed—a prince like him couldn't possibly just eat such a simple peasant sandwich, even if he was hungry.

Then his stomach grumbled.

Grunting in displease, Belphegor tossed the sandwich inside the microwave, reheating it. He supposed even he should be humbled at these desperate, desperate times in which kitchens can't even spare ketchup or potatoes.

He frowned again. He liked potatoes.

* * *

"Oi!" Belphegor said as he plopped beside Superbi Squalo at the living room couch.

"What?" Squalo growled. The second in command is apparently as miffed as the prince, but he was in much, much more dire consequences. He couldn't find a good TV program in the middle of the day.

"We don't have food. The prince is hungry. Why the fuck is that?"

"The kitchen staff is away. Lussuria can't get groceries because he's out with the boss fucking up some warehouse with that retarded Pelverotti family—"

"The handlebar moustache gang?"

"Yeah. And I got the maid to buy groceries, she'll be back later. So don't be an asshat until she comes back."

"Tsk." Belphegor slumped back, gazing dumbly at the giant flat screen television flash a news report. A man with perfectly shellacked brown hair solemnly reported that a couple dozen of grown men died by throat-slits somewhere around the area. The teen hummed a bit. That little piece of illegality was his handiwork. At least _something_ turned out satisfying for once this day, honestly! He had been bombarded with stupidities ever since he woke up.

Firstly, he woke up to Squalo "Voi"-ing his throat out because he hadn't passed that shitty mission report on those grown men dying and blah. Belphegor cringed a bit as he remembered that God-forsaken scream waking him up in seven in the morning. "Fuck you Squalo." He murmured quietly.

"Whassat?" The taller of the two apparently found his channel-surfing much more entertaining than listening to the younger one. Belphegor grunted in response, making the present discussion of his hatred void.

Secondly, Mammon has been putting extra-fucking-effort in collecting the money the money he loaned. He even threatened him to make Levi dance in a tutu in front of him—with no stockings, and probably nothing underneath. Belphegor winced at that memory. That baby was _evil_. And all that crap just because he borrowed some money for some silver-cleaner. So what if it costs a couple of hundred of Euros and that Mammon really needed the money with interest to invest some stupid money earning stocks? He was a prince and his knives deserve princely care for Christ's sake.

And the most recent pain-in-the-ass was the fact that it was lunch time. And his stomach was grumbling like hell. He turned in his seat, grumbling and whining to himself until he saw Levi walk up to him. He grimaced. The fourth stupidity has come, and by God, Belphegor swore that this might even top Squalo's manly banshee screech.

"Come near me and I'll slit your throat." He said seriously, to which Levi swore that the he drank some venom to accompany that threat.

Levi stopped, looking at the fourteen year old quizzically. "Hayato Gokudera is calling you. At the porch phone."

"Hah?"

Levi shrugged and plopped down on Squalo's left. "He says he needs help for something."

"Why me?"

"Actually, he says anybody is fine, but the boss would be coming home soon and I—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you would want to kiss up his fucking ass." Squalo finished for him, annoyed.

As the two grown men responsibly debated as who is more inept and born with shit-for-brains, Belphegor went for the phone. "Yeah?"

"Shit. We got the princely rapist." He heard Gokudera's voice through the receiver.

"Shishi~! Your mom finally decided to tell you, huh? Grandpa."

"FUCK YOU!"

"No thanks. I've already done your mom. What do you want?" He heard a restless sigh.

"We're doing a film for something. But we don't have money."

"Go get Mammon yourself."

"No, we don't want that little shit! Anyway, we don't have a shit load of cash so we can't really afford injuries and other kinds of crap on the set."

"I'm not gonna be your free stuntman, Grandpa."

"Don't call me that!"

"Shishi~! What if I want to?"

"I'll shove dynamite up _your_ mom!"

"I already killed her, dumbass!"

"Well fuck! _Anyway, _we don't want stuntmen. We just want you to test some stuff on the people over there so that we would know what to expect and recreate."

"Like what?"

"Like scenes with someone drinking something with cow shit in it."

Belphegor frowned. "You want me to this to Squalo?"

"Yeah, sure, whatev—BASEBALL NUT GET YOUR SLEEZY MUTT AWAY FROM ME!" Pause. "You can do it to that scar-face Xanxus for all I care. So you in? I'll message you what you need to do."

"Calm your tits, Grandpa. What's in this for me?"

"We'll let you in the dinner with John's dad."

Belphegor furrowed his invisible eyebrows. "John's dad?"

"What's with that fucking tone—What the hell! You don't know him?"

"Isn't that obvious Grandpa? Or are you getting senile? I can slit off your ears if you want."

"Just try motherfucker, just try. Let's see—CLANG—Oi, stupid woman! Hey! Go see what time Lover's Ending Happiness goes on Rome... Six? Alright...Motherfucker!"

"What?"

"Go watch Lover's Ending Happiness at six, channel nine."

"Why?"

"So you can find out who John's fucking dad is! Anyway, I think I'll be able to send you what you need to do in fifteen minutes. Your number's still the same right?" Grunt. "Right. Yeah. So I—"

Belphegor slammed the phone down in its cradle, and pondered about his situation in silence. The prince huffed and blew an wayward lock of blonde hair back to its respectively messy place. He supposed it would be fine to accept Gokudera Hayato's offer if all the errands he makes him do would result to maiming the receivers—since, well, he does need revenge for the stupidities the rest of the Varia bestowed upon him.

It was by chance that he saw Mammon float up to Levi while lugging a pig plastic bag with a suspicious pink tint in it. It was only when Mammon threw it at the sofa and pink and fuchsia chiffon swamped out that Belphegor made a decision.

They were _so_ getting cow poo in their drinks.

* * *

Belphegor watched as the pretty French maid chopped vegetables for the lunch his stomach wants. He would have been impatiently waiting in the dining room, but Hayato has already sent him a short list of what he needs to do along with a few choice picks of colorful, colorful words describing Hayato's feelings to Bel's "Fuckery of hanging up".

He reviewed the list once more. Make someone eat a sandwich with the spiciest sauce you can make, it says.

Pushy.

The fifteen year old grunted, looking in the microwave. His sandwich was still inside, safe and sound, seeing as that he forgot about it when he was meticulously hiding from Levi until Hayato sent the message. Bel punched a few more buttons. A sauce of his specialty and deserving of Squalo's taste buds needed time to make, so he set the timer for twenty minutes on high heat. Why, Squalo should be happy the prince was even bothering with reheating this scummy little sandwich.

The teen leaned towards the maid. "Did you buy those big green and red peppers? Uh..." He squinted at the name tag pierced on the breast of her uniform. "... Adeline?"

Then he had to jump back because Adeline slammed her knife at the cutting board. She tensely turned towards him, eyes squinted in joy and mouth tightly upturned. Bel thought she looked like a high female Joker with thinner red lipstick.

"... Well?"

"But zof course Master Belphegor!" She said in that thin, shrilly voice, maintaining that scary son of a bitch smile. "In zee vegetable compartment!"

"What about chilly sauce?"

"Oh we have zat too Master Belphegor! Anzything elze you'd like zu ask me? Before I loze my mind with all your stupid American orderz, zof course."

"What? The prince is not Ame—"

"Ooh! I have one! You want me zu clean your ztripper hole, yes?" She shouted. "Or-or how 'bout I make you your very own hooker robot zat makes zose unlimited bacon?! You like zat, yes? You savages!"

And with that, the dumbfounded fifteen year old watched with an open mouth as the maid cried a waterfall and ran away to the servant stairs, leaving her veggies half chopped.

"Squ-chan!" Bel called through the close door. Just in case Levi was planning a surprise ballet performance.

"Voi! Don't call me that, you brat! We aren't even in Japan, for fuck's sake."

"Your maid broke."

"What the hell," he heard him mutter loudly, "fuck, that's the third time this week."

"Maybe you shouldn't keep on lending them to the boss in the middle of the night!" Belphegor shouted, beginning to scour through the now packed fridge. Squalo responded wittily with a long string of words that even a genius like him couldn't comprehend. 'Course, maybe it was because Squalo wasn't breathing or pausing between words.

His stomach grumbled. Cursing, he grabbed a packet of chips, stuffing them in his pocket. He could eat after Squalo gets his well deserved dish. But first and foremost, he needs stuff.

Seeing that the chilly sauce, bell peppers, black peppers, vinegar, fish innards, watermelon, mayonnaise, ketchup, food coloring, asparagus, vanilla essence, sports drink, wasabi, raw mushrooms, everything else that Squalo would hate in one plate, and that bottle of weird clear stuff he found in his Boss's room was all where it should be, Belphegor laughed in utter mirth—especially when he saw a food processor lying in wait at the counter and the fact that the expired box of cheese and the sour plums weren't thrown away yet.

"Squ-chan! Get another maid! I'm hungry!"

"I don't have another maid, prince-bitch! I'm gonna call that pizza place for food."

Belphegor sniffed. It would be a little harder to cover up his little scheme, but what the hell, he dutifully acquired all the ingredients for his sure-to-be-spicy sauce and dumped them in the food processor, which he made to start right after.

"What's that sound?" He heard Levi say in the middle of processing the food to look like chunky vomit sauce.

"Ushishi, your mom found her vibrator!" Bel shouted back. Not waiting for Levi's totally awesome response, he opened the microwave, which was done with the sandwich a few minutes ago. The sandwich now looked liked it was raped because it was all soggy in moisture. Disgusted, he used a pair of tongs to throw it in a plate. With the top bread aside, he took his knife and swabbed the slightly chunky mixture in.

Belphegor almost felt sorry for Squalo when he squished the top bread on his masterpiece and it made that sound he supposedly hears around Xanxus's room in the dead of the night.

Almost.

"Squ-chan~!" He screeched as he went towards the living room.

"VOIIII! What is it this time?!"

"That maid from earlier finished some sandwiches. You want it?" He casually held out the seemingly normal looking sandwich.

Squalo glowered. "Why didn't _you_ eat it?"

"I already ate mine. And Levi's."

"Hey!"

Squalo, obviously tired and hungry from sitting on his ass all day with nothing to eat, took the sandwich and asked nothing more of it until he realized the heat it emitted. "Why the fuck is this shit so hot?"

"Like hell I'd know," was all the fifteen year old said as he walked away towards upstairs. He could hardly contain his excitement, albeit he didn't look it. Hayato said that he has to describe to him what exactly happened, Belphegor says it would be much easier with videotaping it. So he took the camcorder he also found in Xanxus's room.

The upstairs has a nice big opening for the living room. The opening was fenced with banisters, and those banisters were bombarded with furniture.

Belphegor settled himself in a hudden spot between two pieces of furniture, propping the camcorder beside him and began to film.

Squalo nonchalantly raised the sandwich to his lips. Bel smiled.

The said man was about to take a bite and savor the goodness chef Bel created when that freaky maid came rushing in the room. Each of her cheeks were painted with two thick lines of red.

"AIIIIEEEEE!" She yelled, banging two pots together as she charged towards the grown men watching football. One of which was busy hollering at the screen.

"Uh, Squalo, your mai—"

"Shut up, Levi!" Squalo snapped. "They're gonna make a touch—THUMP."  
And he fell to the coffee table, unconscious, with a pot rolling around him.

"HEY! You crazy maid! What do you think you're doing—THUMP."

"HAHAHAHA! GUFFAW! GUFFAW!" Adeline jumped up and down in manic glee, holding Squalo's sandwich. Bel raised a well-polished knife. He supposed if he killed her now, he could still convince Squalo that it was all a dream and that he should eat his sandwich. But of course. In a fucking typical day like this, Adeline chomped down a bite and swallowed.

She stumbled a bit. The taste finally setting in, she placed a hand on her mouth. Adeline looked green. Very green. Now she looked yellow.

"Ugh… uh… my fucking head…" Squalo stirred and looked up. "VOOOIIIII! CRAZY BITCH!"

"Mmph!"

"I'M GONNA CUT YOU OPEN AND LUG YOUR CARCASS DOWN AT NAPLES, AND THAT'S MY SANDWICH, YOU FUCKING—OOPMH!" Adeline forcefully choked some of the sandwich down Squalo's throat, who took it immensely well until he started screaming and started swallowing. Now he can barely talk.

Belphegor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, and pouted when even Levi got to taste it and all three of them gagged down the carpet.

Maybe he should've put more wasabi.

Then he wondered if that bottle of clear liquid labeled "lube" has got anything to do with them gagging and not breathing a hell of an inferno.

Seeing as that Squalo, Levi, and Adeline are still gagging weird blobs of red, Belphegor hurriedly propelled himself, his snack and the camcorder upstairs—away from Squalo's swords and Levi's tutu and Adeline's pots.

Then he heard a door slam.

"Boys, we're home~! Boys! What on Earth happened? Why are you barfing and—Ah, boss! Look at what you've done to Squalo's maid!"

"Why the fuck are you blaming me? She said she was sterile. Oi, you trash, go do that in the bathroom before I find a bottle of tequila to crack against your fucking skull."

"Tsk, tsk, you boys really should hurry! Look at what you're doing to that premium rug Mammon bought from some dealership in Russia—"

"_What _is happening to my ten _thousand_ Euro rug?"

"Oh Mammon—"

Belphegor did not stay long enough to hear the little squirt spite out his evil fury on Squalo, Levi and Adeline. He didn't even wait to hear Squalo weakly say that it was his fault. Oh no. He locked himself in his room, and hurriedly sent the video over. He was quickly messaged back with an order to get them to feel sick and go to China with blindfolds on.

He sighed.

He was still hungry, the day wasn't even close to ending, and he's already putting himself up for suicide. He shook his head as he gathered supplies. Suicide was much easier.

Gokudera Hayato just better hope that John's dad is worthy of the prince's presence and interest, or he swore to God that he's gonna send over Mammon's threat—Levi in a tutu and nothing underneath.

* * *

Gokudera Hayato was soon proved to be respectful citizen at around six PM when Belphegor has sent them to China, straight to the doctors, and shortly made them work as factory workers, for something called butt plugs, with fake sage sideburns on (as per orders) and got them a flight back; to which all results to Belphegor indifferently sitting in front of the television, watching the aforementioned TV show while waiting for the rest of the Varia to get back and destroy his guts.

The face of a crying Beth, a Maria Leslova lying on a hospital bed, and a certain Anna wearing her doctor scrubs flashed upon his screen.

_"Oh! Oh Maria! Don't! You must hang on. You know I can't live without you, oh Maria!" _

_"But I don't even know who you are! I'm so sorry Beth. I'm so sorry… so… sorry…" _

_"Maria? Maria! Maria wake up! Anna, cure her! Cure her please! I can't take this any longer!"_

_"Beth, you know my team and I will do everything in our power to save her these fainting episodes are inevitable, so don't cry Beth. Don't cry." _

_"How can I not cry?! Oh Anna! This is… This is all my fault. I should have never taken her from Joh—"_

_"Stop it Beth! You're being a bitc—"_

"VOOOIIIIIII! PRINCE BRAT! PREPARE YOUR FUCKING ANUS BECAUSE I'M GONNA PUSH FUCKING BUTT PLUGS UP—What… WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WATCHING?!"

"Piss off sharky."

"Sharky?!"

"Bel! Mou, how could you make us go to China? I was supposed shop tonight and—Is that Lover's Ending Happiness? Oh I almost missed it! Scoot over!"

By then, Belphegor has his nonexistent eyes stuck at the television, arms curled around a couch pillow, and one hand snuck up to his mouth to let him bite his fingernails. He deftly moved to the left, without even looking away.

And all Squalo could do was gape as the other men (and baby) began their manic exaltations and threats, which all consisted of butt plugs and mustaches for some reason. They all gaped a bit too when Belphegor didn't even move an inch to acknowledge them only to watch that damn soap opera.

"Motherfuck, Bel. Are you crying?!" Bellowed Squalo after a few minutes of silence, when he thought he saw a single tear run down the youth's cheek.

"No!" was all Belphegor could snarl before turning his complete and undivided attention to the television screen. For he was sure that the prince has found his happy place.

"You scum, are you turning into a faggot?!"

"Boss! Sit down and be quiet, I can't hear Anna." Lussuria patted at the spot beside him, expectantly looking at Xanxus to comply to his wishes.

The rest of them don't know why, and they never did question why, but when Xanxus begrudgingly sat down and watched the soap in awkwardness, the rest of them began to watch as well.

And they never regretted it.

* * *

"Levi, call the pizza place, we need dinner."

"You get dinner, Mammon!"

"Motherfucking go get the pizza, Christ!"

"Alright, alright!"

"Hurry it up, you piece of trash, and get me wine while you're at it."

"Yes boss!"

"Why is Adeline here?"

"Heee… Heee…" she wheezed, "Oh I zu wonder when John iz going zu zave Maria! Ah~!"

"Okay…"

"Shush it, boys! I think John coming in!"

_"Beth! How could you do this?!"_

_"Oh John! I'm so sorry! I just want Maria for myself and I just… oh I'm sorry! John! Everything's falling apart!"_

_"Speak no more. My father will take care of this. But where is my Maria? Where is she? Anna! Tell me where she is!"_

_"Son!" _

_"_John's dad!" Belphegor exclaimed quietly to himself.

"Oh. I love that guy."

"You watch Lover's Ending Happiness too, Levi?"

"Huh? N-No way! I mean… just look at that… uh… the way he stands! It's totally like the boss!"

"I would have shot you in your balls by now if only he wasn't such a goddamned badass," Xanxus said, extremely liking how John's dad presents himself.

"Hey, isn't that bitch Beth pregnant?"

"She is, Squalo."

"I bet the dad is John."

"No you fucktard, it's obviously the Mexican neighbor."

Adeline clapped her hands, fawn brown eyes gleaming. "The dad is John's dad!"

There was a pause as the Varia stared at each other. They were captivated by the show itself, now they were captivated by the wise words spoken by the French help.

"Oohhhh."

"Alright," Levi uttered as he walked in with a big bottle of wine and a glass. "Who ate the sandwich with the experimental mayonnaise in it? You guys know that thing was made from baby oil."

* * *

The moon shown bright and full, its silvery light falling through Gokudera Hayato's window, illuminating his surroundings as he peacefully slept. There was no sound but the wind and the trees rustling. It was late, very late, and his body was tired from directing the most awesome film ever! Lambo did cause him trouble when he didn't agree to go into the plane that navigates to a desolated island with an abandoned factory, but the thought of soon dining with John's dad has made him motivated, and it even made him sleep like a baby.

Then his phone rang.

Grumbling, he reached for it. There was a message sent from Italy, from Belphegor. He sniggered as he read the contents of the message filled with praise for John's dad and the whole of Lover's Ending Happiness.

His respect for the blonde sadist even rose a bit when he saw that they share the same sentiments about Beth. Nobody ever liked that chick.

Hayato snuggled back to his bed. Hay Gogh has fallen into the greatest sleep on the second greatest day he ever lived. The first was when he became Tsuna's right hand man, of course.

He even got the greatest dream ever! He was in a wonderland ruled by Tsuna and filled with right hand man activities, Yamamoto Takeshi was only a janitor, Haru has tape on her mouth, and Lambo was far, far, far away. And then there was—

"Aggghhh… Gokudera…" Thump. Thump. Thump.

His eyes shot open and he jumped on his bed, holding clumps of dynamite in each fist as he forced his eyes to adjust to the dark.

It was a low voice, filled with inhumane pain. And lots of footsteps.

He cursed to himself. "I forgot to get this place exorcised and destroyed! God dammit!"

Hayato wanted to be brave, to stand tall and to fight whatever that ghost thing is, that's why he didn't yell like a woman in labor. Yet. But that was only because he hoped with all his fragile might that he was still dreaming when he heard it.

When a dark figure in a cloak loomed over him, he shrieked, threw all of his dynamite to wherever the voice may be and opened the window, forgetting that it was even lit.

The figure could only watch as he screamed weird prayers and something about hiring a bulldozer.

"But Gokudera!" Yamamoto Takeshi tried to scream in his raspy voice. The poor lad didn't quite react nicely to the sauce in the sandwich he had to eat earlier. Though he was glad he didn't really gag like the people on the video Gokudera shown them. Unlike the said boy, the day wasn't so nice for him. The night wasn't too friendly either. It was so cold, he had to wrap himself with the thickest blanket he could find.

"Gokudera!" He still tried to call after the shorter teen, who was now going ninja and hopping through roof and roof to escape the haunted house. "Our house was already exorcised! And you said you can't go home because your sister is still at your place! Gokudera!"

But the ninja wannabe was already a house away.

And when Yamamoto tried to call him, introducing himself quickly first, Gokudera only responded with a, "It ate Baseball nut! Sorry, I thought you were an evil spirit. What offering would you like?"

**Chapter 4 END**


End file.
